I'd Stop the World
by Queen of Kaos
Summary: AU. Repost. Edge wants to rule the world. Randy wants revenge on the man who cost him everything. Lita wants to avenge the brutal murder of the man she loved. Two of them will succeed. Oh, and they happen to be superheroes, too. :
1. Til Death

**I'd Stop the World**

Though the night air was crisp, nipping at her neck as she pulled her long sweater around her shoulders, Amy Dumas walked with a spring in her step. Their relationship had been a string of ups and downs, but he had promised her that tonight would be the greatest night of her life. Her boyfriend of six years, Matt Hardy, was going to meet her at her favorite restaurant and make this the greatest night of her life.

When she had left her home in South Carolina, her parents had warned her to stay out of dark alleys and to never walk around in unfamiliar neighborhoods at night. She had rolled her eyes and huffed that they were being ridiculous. Yes, New York City had it's dangerous sections, but why in the world would she ever find herself alone there? She was a journalism student, for heaven's sake.

But tonight, their advice kind of made sense. Every sound was heightened as she rushed, as quickly as her high-heels would allow, through what could only be described as one of the "bad parts" of town. On their first night at NYU, Matt and Amy had taken a walk to get a feel for their new surroundings. That's when they had stumbled upon "Eduardo's," a hold-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant with the best tostadas Amy had ever tasted.

They had shared lunch at the restuarant on several occasions over the next two years, so Amy had never noticed just how sinister the surrounding area seemed under cover of night. Though there were no cars in the street, and no one to be seen, she couldn't help but feel she was being followed. Checking over her shoulder, she shifted her messenger bag over her hip and quickened her step again.

_Dammit, Matt_, she thought, feeling a chill streaking up her spine once again. _You really wanna score some brownie points? You better have my car fixed_. He had been promising to rebuild the engine in her old Fiat for months now, and Amy couldn't help longing for the vehicle now.

Of course, she had her doubts as to whether or not Matt Hardy had actually ever opened the hood of a car. But he had seemed so intent on doing it for her, on proving that he could do something other than develop a killer business plan, and she hadn't had the heart to tell him no. Just like everything else in their relationship.

The pair had met at summer camp just before they entered ninth grade. They were both from the Carolinas, she from the south, he the north. From the moment she had seen him teaching his little brother how to jump onto the rope swing and drop into the lake below, she had been smitten. While he was a little slower to realize the connection, they had exchanged phone numbers and addresses at the end of the week, promising to keep in touch.

Her mother warned her that camp romances, especially between fifteen-year-olds who lived so far apart, couldn't really last, but it hadn't stopped her from writing him letters. One a week for two months, all unanswered. And then he called.

They talked for two hours that first night. And each call after that was a little bit longer. By the time Christmas rolled around, they were ending each conversation with an innocent "I love you." At camp the next year, they consummated their young relationship, and it hadn't stopped. All of the odds were stacked against them, but they knew it was special. Sure, he pissed her off to no end sometimes. She got under his skin, too. But they were in love.

Going to college together made good sense. He was going into sales and marketing. She was heading into journalism. New York University was tailor-made for their dreams. Of course, seeing each other on a daily basis took some adjusting. But she knew now, six years into their relationship, without a shadow of a doubt, she would marry Matt Hardy someday. If he ever got off his ass and asked her.

She rounded the corner to the restaurant and broke into a wide smile. "Matt!" she called, seeing her boyfriend step out of her car and stuff the keys into his pocket. When he smiled, she felt her heart skip a beat. Dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt, he had his long, dark hair pulled back from his face in a tight ponytail. God, she loved that smile.

Hurrying toward him, she almost dropped her bag in order to launch herself into his arms. "I thought I was late," he blushed slightly, taking another step toward her.

Before he could reach her, though, a figure stepped out of the shadows. "You should learn to keep your mouth shut, Hardy," a man's voice sounded.

But all Amy saw was the silver barrel of the pistol the man raised. Without thinking, she launched herself forward and grabbed the shooter's wrist, cranking it as hard as she could. He shook her off easily and took the shot before she even hit the ground at a few feet away.

The world slowed to a stop as she felt Matt's hand resting on her foot. Rolling onto her side, she cradled his head in her lap and fished her cell phone from her bag. "It's gonna be okay, Matty. You're gonna be okay," she mumbled over and over as she dialed 911, her eyes searching the street for some sign of the shooter.

Tears flowed over her cheeks as she tried to give her location to the dispatcher on the other end of the phone. Running trembling fingers over his chest, her hand bumped something in front shirt pocket. She reached in and withdrew a black, velvet box, pierced through by the bullet.

Her breath caught in her throat as she opened the box, her eyes resting on the small, sparkling diamond. The street light glinted over the gold as she turned it to examine the inscription, bringing a thundering sob from the petite red head in the back alley. "Amy and Matt. Til Death."

Slipping the ring on her finger, she clenched her fist and steadied her jaw. She would find out who had done this. And when she did, he would pay for ruining the best night of her life.


	2. With Great Power

**I'd Stop the World**

"You wanted to see me?"

Randy Orton looked up from the flat screen television in his office and nodded toward the young man in his doorway. "Hey, man. Lunch." Randy tossed his friend a wrapped sandwich and returned his eyes to the game on the television.

"Must be nice to have a job where you don't have to do much actual work," Adam Copeland shot snidely, shedding his white lab coat before sinking to the stiff leather couch.

Randy smirked as he chewed his club sandwich. If he thought Adam was serious, he would argue. But if there was one person in the company who knew how hard Randy had worked to nab his position as the company's most ruthless negotiator, it was Adam.

They had both scored jobs with Titan Enterprises right out of college. Adam started as a minion in the Research and Development department for the pharmaceutical company, working his way up to Director of R&D, while Randy was thrust into an Executive Assistant's position with the Sales and Marketing department. Everyone knew it was because Randy's father had also worked for the company, and Titan was nothing if not overrun with nepotism.

"So who you takin' to the fund raiser?" Adam asked, releasing his shoulder-length blond curls from their company-mandated ponytail.

Randy wiped his mouth with a napkin and shrugged his shoulders. "Haven't really thought about it," he answered distractedly, pointing the remote at the television and running the TiVo back a few seconds. "Check out this play."

But Adam was interested in anything but the basketball game Randy was watching. They may have been executives with posh offices, but there were still women to discuss. "I think I'm gonna ask Mickie James," he announced.

Turning his head for the first time, Randy raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Why not?" Adam shrugged, relaxing back into the seat as he popped a potato chip into his mouth.

With a shake of his head, Randy returned his attention to the game he had been watching. Sometimes he wondered if Adam would ever really get it. "Maybe because she's engaged?"

"So?"

"So she's got a man," Randy said. "Why go there?"

Adam laughed and shook his head as he sat his lunch on the coffee table in front of him. "Isn't that why we got super powers in the first place, man?"

Leaning back in his chair, Randy held his coffee mug with one hand and held the other over the top of the lukewarm beverage. With a slight bit of concentration, he felt the mug begin to warm, smiling to himself at the power he was still getting used to. "It's pretty cool, right?" he smiled and sipped from the drink, cringing when it burnt his tongue. "Little too much sometimes, but it's cool."

"Coffee?" Adam's lip curled as he watched his friend. "Are you gay?" When Randy shot him a look that said he really didn't appreciate the question, Adam held up a finger and scooted to the edge of the couch. "No," he amended. "Because, even then, you could use your powers to get some serious ass," he babbled on. "Not to warm your fucking coffee."

This time, Randy laughed. Sometimes he thought he only kept Adam around for comic relief. "Chill, man," he warned, resting his right ankle on his left knee as he sat casually in his chair.

"Seriously, dude," Adam stated, his eyes growing wider by the second. "I mean, the mutations are working better than even I expected, and we're getting stronger every day." Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees. "With great power comes great," he started.

"Responsibility," Randy interrupted, rolling his eyes at the cliché statement.

But Adam shook his head vigorously. "No, Peter Parker," he scoffed. "Pussy." Randy rolled his eyes. "With great power comes a great amounts of pussy."

Randy leaned forward and rested his hands on the top of the desk. They both knew that neither of them needed super powers to score pussy, but they were young, loaded, and bored. At least Randy was. There were only so many high-tech, high-priced toys he could spend his money on. Why not spend it on the ability to manipulate temperature and teleport?

While Adam prattled on about the possibility of asking two women to the company's HIV fund raiser, Randy turned his attention back to his television. Or to the window to the hallway outside his office.

"Who's that?" he asked, pointing to the pair outside the window.

Adam followed his friend's finger. "Who? Hunter? He's the Senior Vice President of Sales and Marketing," he explained.

Randy rolled his eyes. He knew who Hunter Helmsley was: the dick who had nearly cost him his job and gotten him demoted nearly a year ago. It had taken some serious work on Randy's part to climb back up the corporate ladder, and he was still clinging to the shred of a possibility that he would find a way to pay Hunter back for the humiliation he had caused the young man. Oh, he knew Hunter very well.

"I meant the girl," Randy corrected.

Looking carefully out the window, Adam smiled slightly. "That's Amy Dumas," he informed. "She's the Music Editor for the new lifestyle magazine." Why a pharmaceutical company needed a lifestyle magazine no one was really sure, but most suspected it was just their CEO, Vince McMahon's, way of claiming another corner of the world.

A plan was already formulating in Randy's mind as he studied the red-head chatting up his arch nemesis. "She into Hunter?"

The laugh escaped Randy's lips before he could stop it. "I doubt it," he exclaimed. "She's a punk rocker with delusions of actually being a writer. Hunter's not really her type."

Randy turned to his friend. "How would you know what her type is?"

Shrugging, Adam grabbed his bag of potato chips again and settled into his seat, content to stay there for the rest of his lunch hour. "Used to know her. Back in college."

"I'm taking her to the fund raiser," Randy announced. Even if it wasn't romantically, the smile on Hunter's face said that he liked this girl. He probably thought she had potential.

"She's so not your type," Adam warned.

But Randy just shook his head. "It's so not about her, man."


	3. Just Once

**I'd Stop the World**

Though Amy Dumas had always dreamed of being a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, she told herself that everyone had to start somewhere. Being the Music Editor of a lifestyle magazine wasn't exactly the same as war reporting in the Middle East, but it was a step in the right direction. And it was plenty of responsibility for a young writer, fresh out of college. Enough to keep her mind off of the other distractions of her life, at the very least.

"It's really great to have you on board, Amy," Hunter was saying when she remembered to tune back into the conversation. He was infamous as one of the most ruthless and non-wavering businessmen in the pharmaceutical industry, and if he was glad to have her there, she took it as a compliment. "I think you're gonna be a great fit here."

Tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear, Amy shifted her weight and smiled slightly. "Thanks, Hunter. I really appreciate the opportunity," she thanked. Glancing from her own jeans and concert tee shirt to his designer suit and back again, she shrugged off the differences and reminded herself that the dress code in the magazine offices was far more relaxed. "Tell Stephanie that I said "thanks" again," she referenced his wife, the Editor in Chief of the periodical.

Touching her arm gently, Hunter nodded and smiled again. He was intimidating, to be sure, but also friendly. At least, that's how Amy saw him. "Oh, the AIDS fund raiser this weekend? You're coming, right?"

Taking a job that required twelve to fourteen hours of her day was a great distraction. Attending a social function wasn't so great. Even if she'd had a date, it wasn't something that she had ever enjoyed. "Um, probably not," she declined as graciously as she could.

"Think about it," Hunter advised, turning on his heel with another nod.

Amy shook her head and moved in the opposite direction, only to bump into someone else. "I'm so sorry," she mumbled.

"No, excuse me," a deep voice answered her, his strong hands on her biceps. "I should have watched where I was going."

Looking up, Amy met the bluest set of eyes she had ever encountered. His full lips spread into a smile and she couldn't help blushing as she immediately moved her gaze to the floor. "Um, okay," she accepted his apology and took a short step to the right in an attempt to move around him.

But he wasn't letting her go so easily. "I'm Randy, by the way," he introduced. "Randy Orton."

She took his outstretched hand in her considerably smaller one and risked another look up. "Amy Dumas," she finally said when she had found her voice. "It's nice to meet you, Randy Orton."

Randy's lips spread into a wide, confident grin. "The pleasure is all mine, Amy," he said easily. Releasing her hands, he tucked his comfortably in the pockets of his Armani suit pants. "You're the new Music Editor at the magazine, right?" he asked.

Nodding shyly, she looked to the floor again. _Just maintain eye contact, ya freakin' schoolgirl_, she scolded herself. Squaring her jaw, she straightened her shoulders and tried to appear as though he wasn't the most beautiful person she had ever seen. "That I am," she affirmed. "And I'm sure you're very important around here," she added, somewhat embarrassed that she had no idea who he was.

His chuckle was good-natured as he relaxed his shoulders just a bit, a sign that the wind was slightly escaping his proverbial sails. "I'm the company's lead deal negotiator," he said.

"Ah," Amy responded, her pursed lips the only sign of embarrassment. "I see," she added.

Randy nodded his head as an uncomfortable silence engulfed them. "So," he said suddenly, causing Amy's eyes to grow just a bit in surprise. "Have you had lunch yet?"

She smiled in spite of herself, sure that her cheeks were growing pink at the mere implication of the question. "No, I haven't, actually," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears again.

"Amy!"

Both Randy and Amy turned at the sound of her name, only to see a tiny blond in a miniskirt and a turtleneck sweater rushing toward them on stiletto boots. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but we have got an emergency," she said, finally reaching the red head's side, an urgency in her voice. "In the office," she added with a small grin.

Rolling her eyes, Amy gave Randy a withering look. "I'm sorry. Can I get a rain check on that lunch?"

Randy nodded and stepped aside. "Of course. I will see you later, Amy," he winked, turning and heading back into his office.

Amy followed her assistant, Lilian Garcia, through the maze of hallways and toward their section of the massive building. "I hope you're happy," Amy shot through clenched teeth.

Lilian slung her hair over her shoulder and slowed her steps slightly. "I just saved your ass. Literally," she informed her former college roommate and current boss.

"What?" Amy laughed, shaking her head.

Rolling her eyes, Lilian gestured over her shoulder as they continued walking. "Randy Orton?" she scoffed. "That man is notorious for hooking the new girls, wining and dining them, and then dropping them like trash. On their sweet, little asses." Through clenched teeth, she huffed. "He's a man whore. Stupid bitch."

Amy would be the first to admit she wasn't ready to date yet. But she would be. Soon. And while she appreciated Lilian being protective of her, sometimes the over-protective, Momma Bear mode was annoying. "Lilian," she started, and then stopped. Turning to her friend in an empty hallway, she reached out and smiled in realization. "You've still got a bruise on your sweet, little ass from the fall, don't you?"

With another huff, Lilian shook Amy off and began walking again. "Please," she insisted. "I've seen way too much in the last year to let that walking STD touch me with a forty foot pole."

_Methinks the lady doth protest too much_, Amy thought as she continued following Lilian with a knowing smile. "So what's the big emergency?" Without a word, Lilian handed her a pink note. "A Post-It? This is how you're giving me assignments now?" she asked as the pair reached an elevator at the end of the hall just as it was closing. Without thinking, Amy raised a hand slightly and continued reading the paper as the door slid back open.

Lilian smacked her friend's hand and smiled at the curious woman inside. All they needed was for the world to know that Amy had super powers. She waited until their companion had exited the elevator to turn toward her friend again. "So? What do you think? Can you handle it?"

Rolling her eyes, Amy handed the Post-It back to Lilian before pushing the door of the magazine offices open. The buzz of chaos greeted them as the red head huffed and let her shoulders fall in disappointment. "Just once," she turned to hiss playfully at Lilian, "I would like to have lunch with a hot-ass man-whore without getting interrupted to save the fuckin' world."


	4. Time to Chat

**I'd Stop the World**

"Would you hurry up?"

The pair of skinny thugs in the darkened alley had just knocked over a convenience store, shooting the clerk and two other patrons in the process. It wasn't supposed to go down like that. The guy wasn't supposed to argue with them. The shoppers weren't supposed to bolt for the door.

"Not my fault your trigger finger went all spazzy!"

They took turns arguing and smacking each other as they ran down the alley, laughter breaking into their conversation as they put more distance between themselves and the scene of the crime. Until a shadowed figure dropped into their path.

Both men stopped short, one smacking into the other as the surveyed the tiny female standing in their path. "Who the hell are you?" the one in the back asked.

With a smirk, she shrugged and rested her hands on her slender hips. Her enormous platform boots were knee-high and covered in glitter. The metallic silver hotpants that clung to her hips were like a second skin, as was the low-cut black tank that left nothing to the imagination.

Her burgundy hair flowed over her shoulders in long waves, and the smirk on her lips was smug, completely collected, and almost self-righteous. With a shake of her locks, she spoke in a low, even tone.

"You don't recognize me?" she asked, her lip twitching in mild amusement.

Sizing her up, the guys seemed to relax when they realized her diminutive stature wouldn't let her overpower a flea, let alone the two of the together. "Should we?" the young man in front asked.

"Ya know, I'm hurt," she rolled her eyes, grabbing both of them by the shoulders and throwing them against the brick wall of the abandoned building to her right. "For the last two years, I have given of myself," she huffed, moving toward them and lifting them from the ground, only to drop them again. "I keep the streets safe from assholes like you two," she added, untying the rope that was gathered around her waist.

They were tied together before either realized that she had even moved, but she wasn't done speaking. "I could be at home right now. I could be listening to Depeche Mode, or crying with The Cure. I could be dancing around my bedroom, lip synching to Fergie," she added, scrunching up her nose as she surveyed the dirty streets around them.

"Instead," she went on, moving away from the captives to pull a long steel rod out of the back of a trash bin. "I'm here, babysitting you two douchebags," she grunted as the rod gave way. Twirling it in her hands, she approached again. "All I want is a little respect, and you don't even know who I am." She faked a sniffle and wiped a pretend tear from her eyes.

"Are you kidding me with this?" one of the guys asked.

"Yeah, I'm kidding." She didn't mind toying with her "victim" from time to time, but this guy's attitude was starting to piss her off. Taking the bar in both hands, she jammed it between the men, pinning the rope that was holding them to the wall. "Shut the fuck up."

When she turned to walk away, the quieter of the two men protested. "You're just gonna walk away? You're not even gonna try to take a punch?"

She stopped and turned, hands on her hips once again. "What? You want me to rough you up a little bit? You like it like that?"

"You're a smart ass, aren't you?" the taller of the two asked, slinking back to lean his back against the wall, making himself comfortable.

Her lips twitched in another grin. "Call it one of my special powers," she winked, tucking her hair behind her ear. Sirens wailed in the background as she threw a look over her shoulder. "Alright, losers," she sighed, tossing a wink their way. "Be sure to tell the cops Lita said hi." With a wave, she seemingly disappeared.

The slamming of the car door jarred Lilian from a near sleep. "You finally done?" she asked with a yawn.

Amy nodded and gathered her hair into a high ponytail. "Yeah, well, they wanted to talk," she sighed, flipping down the vanity mirror and checking her lipstick.

"Why do you do that?" Lilian asked, putting the car into gear and pulling onto the darkened streets of the grungy neighborhood.

"Do what?" Amy asked distractedly as she wiped a smudge of mascara from the corner of her eye.

Rolling her eyes, Lilian continued driving toward a part of town that wasn't so creepy. "Waste your time and energy on the witty banter? Why do you do that? It's gonna bite you in the ass someday," she predicted.

Amy just flipped the mirror shut and leaned back in the seat, rotating her ankles in the oversized boots she had chosen for the evening. "Hey," she said suddenly. "You made me skip out of lunch with a manwhore. Possibly some mansex. Instead, I spent my evening chasing two greasy ass punks around town. I deserve some witty banter, dammit!"

"You need a better disguise," Lilian stated, seemingly switching gears without warning. "We need to find a way to cover your face."

"Um. . . thank you?" Amy responded, immediately pulling the mirror back down to check her appearance. She wasn't a goddess, but she wasn't hideous, either.

Lilian shrugged her shoulders and turned the car onto another dimly lit street. "Hey, you wanna stop and chat for an hour after you kick their asses? Somebody's gonna recognize you. You need to cover your face."

Though she wanted to argue, Lilian made a certain degree of sense. All of the best superheroes had masks anyway. "Alright, fine," she conceded. "I'll whip something up when I get home."

With that issue behind them, the girls chatted as they drove, singing with the radio and discussing the bands Amy had to listen to when she got home. They were nearly out of the seediest part of town when something caught her eyes. "God dammit, I just wanna go home," she groaned.

"What?" Lilian asked, scanning the street and wishing, not for the first time, that she had Amy's heightened senses.

With a groan of resignation, she pointed to the left. "Just pull over here and wait for me," she said.

Knowing better than to argue, Lilian pulled the car over and cut the lights. "What do you see?"

Pushing the door open, Amy released her hair from the ponytail and took another look. "There's someone coming out of JR's Barbecue," she said. "And it's not JR. Not in those jeans anyway," she added, pursing her lips. "I love criminals with tight asses."

"Amy," Lilian reached out and touched her friend's arm. When Amy looked back, she smiled slightly. "Be careful."

With a crack of her knuckles, Amy rolled her head from side to side and nodded. "I always am." With another smirk, she shrugged and stepped out of the car. "Kind of."


	5. Mysterious Not So Stranger

**I'd Stop the World**

Crime was high in this area of town, prompting many of the local shopkeepers to leave as many lights on as they could afford to keep burning after hours. Not that a few neon signs and night lights scared the real criminals away, but Amy couldn't fault them for doing what they could to protect themselves. She would just have to take over where their precautions left off.

Sticking to the shadows, she crept as quietly as possibly toward her intended target - two men, dressed in jeans, work shirts, baseball caps and sunglasses, saying nothing but standing together outside the shop, staring at something in a paper bag. _Did JR forget to take his deposits to the bank? _she asked herself as she moved closer to them. It was virtually unheard of, but what else would these two jack-offs want with a barbecue restaurant?

Though she knew that she hadn't made a sound, she found herself startled with the two men raised their heads and looked in her exact direction. Either they knew she was there, or they had a keen sense of being followed. Either way, she found it an ideal time to make an apperaance. Stepping out of the shadows, she rested her hands on her hips and leveled her gaze at them. "What's goin' on, fellas?" she asked when they both turned toward her.

Though they were nearly the same height, one had blonde curls flowing from under his hat and a sneer on his lips that sent a chill up her spine. "Well, lookie what we have here." He took a step toward her and sized her up again, his eyes obviously stopping on her ample breasts, nearly spilling from her tank top. "It's the infamous Lita."

The way he said her name cause the hairs on her arms to stand up. There was something about this man that was causing a visceral reaction deep within her gut. And it was starting to freak her out. Setting her jaw, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and tried to feign confidence. "Always nice to meet a fan," she stated.

He licked his lips and nodded. "Oh, I am a fan. A big fan. You're very impressive, Sweetheart," he complimented, reaching out to run gentle fingers down her bare arm.

The electricity that shot through her was not welcomed. It wasn't the feeling that comes with an instant attraction or a flirtateous connection. It seered, like tiny fires under her skin, boiling her blood. "I'm sorry," she said through clenched teeth as she jerked her arm back and stepped away from this stranger. "I can't say I know you." Looking over her shoulder at the storefronts, she shrugged. "I do know JR, though. And I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be cool with you two jackasses breaking into his place at this time of night."

The blonde laughed cynically while the other man just smiled in amusement and tucked his free hand into his pocket. With the other hand, he tightly clutched the paper bag and waited for his "leader" to continue his conversation. "Guess you're not as smart as you think you are," he said, the sneer growing.

She had gone from intrigued, to freaked, to irritated in only a few minutes. She didn't know who these guys thought they were, but she knew who she was. And she was going to stop them. Looking over their shoulders, she saw the store beside JR's, the light seemingly popping on above her head. "The jewelry store," she sighed in recognition. "So what? You had to pick up the rings for the commitment ceremony? And since you didn't want anyone to know about your alternative love affair, you just thought you'd take them after hours?"

With a cold chuckle, the blonde raised an eyebrow behind his dark glasses and pursed his lips. "Cute," he spat. "But no." Shaking his head, he reached for her hand and drew the glimmering diamond on her left hand into the flickering street light. "Although, I suppose we could use yours, seeing as you won't be needing it anymore."

While her insides seemed to twist and contort at his touch, she felt the temperature rising in her face. Pushing him with a strength even she didn't know she possessed, she sent the man flying backwards. How dare he? And how in the hell could he possibly know? "You don't know. . ." she started.

Laughing manaically, he stood and ran a hand over the back of his head, making sure that a welt hadn't formed for the force of the fall. "You heard me, Amy," he spoke her name as though he knew her, and she felt her heart drop even further. The look on her face told her that he had all of the leverage he needed now. "So you're gonna go back home and forget you ever saw us tonight, Sweetheart. As long as you don't get in my way, you won't have to worry about taking a nice, long dirt nap next to your precious boyfriend."

Without warning, she turned and bent at the waist, vomiting on the ground at her side. The man only laughed as she struggled to regain her composure. "Who the fuck are you?" she hissed angrily.

"Ah, ah," he wagged a finger and stepped back to his partner's side. "I'm sure Mommy and Daddy Dumas wouldn't approve of that language, young lady."

He knew too much. Who the hell would know that much about her? And why did he have such a physical effect on her? She remembered something that Lilian had once told her, when they were researching just why she was suddenly developing super-human powers. "Bastard," she spat, turning to run back to the car. Until she knew more, she couldn't be prepared to face this asshole, or anything he might be concocting for her.

The chilling laughter followed her. "It was nice to see you again!" he called.

She ran until she saw Lilian's car, and collapsed in the front seat, gasping for air. The sobs were fighting their way to the surface as years of memories flooded in on her. Clutching her chest, she motioned for Lilian to drive. "What the hell?" Lilian asked as they headed back in the direction of the house.

Pulling her hair back from her face, Amy shook her head and licked her lips, her breathing still shallow. "Do you remember when we did all of that research on power transfer?" Her friend mumbled an affirmation. "I think I just met my source."


	6. Worth the Cost

**I'd Stop the World**

* * *

"What the fuck was that? Are you fucking crazy?" Randy slammed the door of his apartment while his friend laughed and dropped to the long, leather couch in the center of the living room. 

Shedding his sunglasses and his hat, Adam ran his fingers through his silky curls and reached for the television remote. "Relax, Orton. She's got too much on her mind now to worry about us."

Throwing his own "disguise" onto the entry table, Randy walked to the television and cut the power. "How long have you known that Amy has powers? And why didn't you tell me that the other day when I was hitting on her?" Shaking his head in disgust, Randy planted his hands on his hips. "And what the hell was all that shit about her boyfriend? How do you know all that?"

But Adam wasn't easily shaken. A tantrum from a spoiled rich kid wasn't going to deter him from the mission at hand. Brushing it off, he just shrugged and turned the television on again. "Doesn't matter," he said, standing and heading to the kitchen.

Randy followed, determined to get some answers. He had seen the pain in Amy's eyes when Adam had mentioned her boyfriend. Something was up, and he didn't like being kept in the dark. "Hey," he shouted, drawing Adam's attention as he turned with a beer bottle dangling between his fingers. "You want any more cash for your blessed contraption, I think I need to know."

_Always the drama queen_, Adan thought, leaning against the kitchen counter and tilting the bottle to his lips. It wasn't worth getting all worked up over. Sheesh. "Her boyfriend, Matt, was my roommate in college. At least he was for the first year. He was a freshman, I was a senior. We were friends," he said.

"And what?" Randy probed further. "They broke up? He cheated? What's the rest of the story?"

Without so much as a shift in his expression, Adam took another drink. "Got shot. Died," he said flatly.

"Oh god," Randy whispered, lowering himself to the bar stool at his side.

"Yeah," Adam nodded. "Rumor has it Amy was there. Witnessed the whole thing." He moved back into the living room and dropped onto the couch, surfing the channels while Randy processed the information.

"And you just thought you'd throw that back in her face?" Shaking his head, Randy focused his eyes on the man he thought he knew. Truth be told, he'd never really asked a lot of questions about Adam, or his character. It didn't really matter when they were hitting on girls and watching football games together. "What the hell is wrong with you, man?"

With a huff, Adam turned on the couch and sat his beer on the table. "What's wrong with me? Dude, what the hell is wrong with you? Why do you even care about this whole sordid affair?" he asked angrily.

"I don't," Randy said quickly. Maybe a little bit too quickly. "it just seems a bit heartless. That's all."

Adam stood, his eyes wild and focused only on the man sitting before him. "We are this close, Orton," he hissed, holding his thumb and forefinger just inches apart. "This close to having everything. To controlling everything."

But Randy wasn't sure the ends justified the means. Was having everything really worth hurting innocent people along the way? Was it worth hurting Amy? "I told you, man," he started. "I found a way to get back at Hunter." Maybe if he could reason with Adam, show him that they could get what they wanted without this crazy plan. . .

"Tell me something, Orton," Adam interrupted his thoughts, a vicious tone in his voice. "Do you really think that sleeping with someone Hunter kinda likes professionaly is going to make up for everything he cost you?" Scoffing sarcastically, Adam paced the room. Orton couldn't back out - they were too close. They had almost everything they needed. And as much as he thought he could, he knew he couldn't pull it all off on his own. "He took your reputation. Your position with the company. Your dignity.

"You lost your family's respect. You lost Stacy," he reminded, rattling off the list of wrongs that Hunter had committed against the young man he'd once considered a protegee. "He used everything in his his power to fuck you up the ass, Orton. Everything you wanted, he took it away." Sitting on the stool beside his friend, he softly tapped the counter with his finger. "Can you honestly tell me that one night with a magazine editor that he kinda admires for her work, is gonna make up for all of that?"

Each offense, each memory, washed over Randy as he listened to Edge's words. He was right. He'd lost everything because of that man. And if there was a way to return the favor, he had no choice but to go with it. "Tell me somethin', man," he finalled spoke, his blue eyes resting on his friend's determined face. "You really think we can pull this off?"

With wide eyes, Adam laughed and nodded. "Oh yeah. I'm damn sure of it."


End file.
